The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1887-10-06

/ NULL IL SuC uOeS, IL SHOWS now little
she knows about her relatives. Shall
go, mother?"
Il think you had BETTER" answered
Mrs. Gerrish, ''She must be very
lonely, and a visit from YOU will
brighten her life little"
81 can't see what she wants me to
come for" said Ruth. II haven't seen
her since was a wee chit of a girl.
| wonder why she did not send for
one of Aunt Lucy's daughtersP They
visited her last summer, you know"
Il presume she has some plan in her
head" answered Mrs. Gerrish sShe
| generally has when she invites any of
her relatives to visit her. She did not
invite Lucy's girls to come and see her
last summer, and l presume she was
offended because they came unlimited"
So Ruth went to visit Aunt Martha,
and was welcomed to the old Fielding
homestead in a grimly hospitable
| fashion.
I'm glad you thought it worth while
to humor the whim of an old woman"
she said. 81 could have had one of
Lucys girls-or all of them for that
matter" she added with grim smile,
''if had wanted them; but / didn't.
They were too good when they were
here last summer-to my face, that is.
l know how they called me horrid old
thing behind my back; but didn't care
much about that But 1 don't think
you are like them. You don't look like
them, anyway; and your mother never
seemed at all like Lucy"
Ruth soon soon found out WHY Aunt
Martha had asked her to visit her. A
nephew was coming to visit her also
and she had planned a marriage for
them.
II always liked you," Aunt Martha
said, in one of her confidential moods,
land though I haven't seen much of
you, I've heard good deal about YOU
You've been good to your mother.
Lucy's girls are willing their mother
should slave herself to death to get
them finery and fol-de-rels. They
want to wear nice dresses and have q
good time, and that's all they care
about. You're too sensible for that.
You'll suit John, know"
Ruth dreaded to tell her aunt the
truth, but she felt as il she ought to do
so at once.
'Aunt Martha" she said, with a
little catch for her breath, for she was
afraid the old lady would be terribly
offended at the failure of her plans,
'.I'm engaged to be married"
Then, the worst being over, she
went ON to tell her aunt all about it,
succeeded in making her lover a great
hero in her own estimation, if not in
Aunt Martha's.
$50 you're going to marry a man
with one arm, and as poor as poverty?"
she said 0pimlY,
Yes. If nothing happens to prevent |
it," answered Ruth. 1--WE love each
other. and we'll get along in some |
way" said Ruth bravely. Loves
better than all the wealth in the world, |
1 think, and so does Rodney"
''Humph!" said Aunt Martha; and |
there the conversation ended.
John came. He and Ruth were the |
best of friends at once.
Aunt Martha saw it, and hoped her |
plans might yet be made to work.
She waited two or three weeks before |
telling John what she had set her heart |
upon bringing to pass.
When she told him, he listened in |
silence, with a peculiar twinkle in his |
blue eyes, and she felt quite sure that |
his silence meant consent.
That afternoon when Ruth walked |
down the orchard-path with John, he |
told her what Aunt Martha had said to |
him that morning.
II didn't tell her it was out of the |
question, because 1 was already en-
gagged to be married" he said: .'but / |
don't mind telling you so, because 1 |
have dim sort of an idea that you are |
in the same boat, as they say. Would |
You like to look at my girls picture?"
Ruth looked at the picture of ''his |
girl" and then repaid his confidence |
by telling him about Rodney.
Aunt Martha seemed to give up her |
pet project. She never mentioned it |
to Ruth again. When she went home |
the old woman kissed her, after the |
same grim fashion of her welcome,
and told her she should expect to have |
her repeat the visit next summer, if |
nothing happened; and Ruth promised |
to come.
Something did happen-something
that will happen to all of us sooner or |
later. Aunt Martha had not expected |
to go so soon, and none of her rela- |
tives had thought of her dying years |
to come; but the call came suddenly, |
and she went away, one winter night, |
upon the journey from which there is
no coming back.
Ruth and her mother went to the |
funeral. They went out of respect for
the dead, and not because they ex-
pected she had remembered them in |
her will.
But when the funeral was over the |
lawyer asked them to stay till the will |
was read. She had requested that such |
of her relatives as attended her funeral
should listen to her last will and testa- |
ment.
To her nephew, John Hunt, she be- |
queathed the sum of five thousand |
pounds; to her niece, Ruth Gerrish, |
she gave the old family Bible, hoping |
that "what she would find therein |
might be of benefit to her in future |
years"
Ruth took her legacy, which was
securely tied up, with For Ruth |
Gerrish" written ON it, as the will had
stated, and they went back home.
II wouldn't have touched the old |
bible." said Aunt Lucy, in high wrath |
as they steamed cityward.
Neither her name or the names of
her daughters had been mentioned in
tine will.
81 did not expect even this"
answered Ruth. Aunt Martha was |
under no obligation to remember me
in any way"
But to think of a woman who has |
five thousand pounds to give away.
and doesn't give single penny of it |
where it will do the good it ought to"
said Lucy Indignantly.
"Martha's money was her own to do
what she pleased WITH" said Mrs. |
Gerrish. ''Tm sure l never expected
any of it."
II wonder who has the homestead?"
said Lucy suddenly. ''The five
thousand left to John was in bonds |
and mortgages. Nothing was said
about the place. didn't think of that !
before"
That night, when Rodney Craig |
came to see them, Ruth told him of
her legacy.
Il have not opened it yet," she said
as she brought out the package. ''Hold
it on your knee, Rodney, while un-
tio ha apf,. -